


Sunrise on Delos

by Tarlan



Series: Sunrise [1]
Category: Burning Zone, Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Drama, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-05-09
Updated: 2000-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his health waning rapidly, dying slowly with cancer, Philip goes on a journey, arriving on the Greek island of Delos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise on Delos

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the episode 108: _Hall of the Serpent_ with Nick Lea and Philip Padgett.

He awoke with a start, eyes wide with the residual horror of a most terrifying dream still clinging to the edges of his subconscious. A sheen of sweat glistened over his pale skin but it was the coldness of fear rather than natural perspiration.

He raised his head from his makeshift pillow, his shallow breathing gradually deepening as he accepted the vivid images for what they were - a nightmare. It was only a little past dawn and the sun had not yet risen above the temple, so it had yet to send the temperature soaring into the 90s, and in the gray early morning light, everything was exactly as it had been when he fell asleep. Surrounding him were the ancient ruins of the temple of Apollo on Delos. Few of the ornately carved columns were still standing, most had fallen to lie in the dust, untouched by a people who had long given up the god for whom these pillars had first been raised.

He had come to Greece to give himself a parting gift, deciding that the little money he had saved over the years would be better spent in adding memories rather than paying doctors. He wanted to prove to himself that his short life had not been a complete waste, wanted to see the wonders of the world before he succumbed to the deadly disease that was slowly eating him alive from the inside. He was riddled with cancer, but had no-one to blame but himself. No-one had forced him to smoke, and he had been well aware of the risks attached to such an addictive habit. Still, he had never dreamed he would become one of those statistics that the government warned about.

Too late now to worry about that.

He thought back to the small bar he had been drinking in a few nights previously. The place had been empty, being well off the usual tourist track. He had struck up a conversation with the bartender, grateful that the man had been able to speak and understand a little English. It was the bartender who had told him about this island, relating tales of pilgrims traveling to the temple to beg mercy and aid from Apollo, God of Medicine.

Delos. The island that had never seen the sun until Zeus had raised it from the depths of the ocean so his beloved, Leto of the Dark Robe, could break Hera's curse and give birth to their children, Apollo and Artemis.

Philip Padgett closed his tired eyes. It had been an overwhelming impulse that had made him stay here for the night, sleeping on the old altar stone. He had expected it to be uncomfortable but the stone beneath him had been worn smooth over the millennia, and his sleeping bag had provided a barrier that kept the coldness of the stone from penetrating his flesh. All in all, the night's sleep had been no worse than any he had suffered over the past months as the cancer advanced - except for the nightmare - but even bad dreams were not unusual these days as his subconscious let loose the fears he held inside; his fear of dying.

Philip sat up and swung his legs over the side. If he had been hoping for some miraculous cure then he was sorely disappointed. With fingers still shaking from the strength of his dream he reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle, shaking two tablets into the palm of one hand. The cancer riddling his body had left him in a world of pain that he stoically ignored with the help of these powerful painkillers, but no drug could ease his growing fear of death.

Next, he pulled out a small tube of antiseptic from the medicine box, intending to dab a little on the snake bites he had received while investigating the ruins yesterday. In all he had been bitten four times, once on his hand with the remainder around his ankles. He gave a wry grin. Next time he would bring a walking stick and check for snakes before treading off the beaten path. He pulled back his light cotton shirt and stared in confusion at the smooth flesh. There was no sign of any swelling, nor even the puncture marks from the fangs that must surely have been left behind from the painful bite.

Snatches of his nightmare came back to haunt him. There had been a snake in his dream too, a huge snake with dark coils, long sharp fangs and glowing red eyes. It had uncoiled itself from the column in front of the altar stone, slithering through a strange mist to rear up beside his paralyzed body. He remembered the terror that swept through him as the giant serpent struck at him, expecting to feel the agony of its wicked fangs penetrating his flesh but, instead, it had merged into him, disappearing inside his body.

It was obvious to him now that the serpent had been conjured up by his subconscious through the story told by the bartender.

Hera, queen of the gods and wife to Zeus, had been insanely jealous when she learned not only of her husband's infidelity but of the prophecy that Leto would bear children who would outshine her own. She had cursed Leto to wander the earth searching for a place that had never been touched by the sun. And to ensure Leto never found any rest, Hera had sent the Python to chase her by night and day.

Why he should dream of the Python in this place was a mystery, for the myth also stated that when Zeus raised the island of Delos, he surrounded it with sharp rocks and giant sharks to keep the Python at bay while Leto gave birth.

The rest of his dream was equally strange. When the dream serpent had entered his body he had been given what he had long prayed for - a cure to his sickness - but the price had been high, perhaps too high. It had taken over him, body and spirit, filling him with its own putrescence.

But it was just a dream.

He wiped a hand across his eyes and gave a small chuckle of relief - a feeling that turned as sour as the dream. Relief from what? After all, he was still sick... still dying.

He blinked as the sun made its appearance, sending a shaft of light to pierce the greyness, and it was only then that he noticed the stranger standing just a little way off. The sun seemed to radiate from the tall, imposing figure, glinting off the golden waves that fell just short of the man's shoulders. The penetrating eyes were a deep blue, like the sky on a hot summer's day, and they were intently focused upon him. When he spoke, the man's voice was soft and melodious.

"Hyacinthus."

"Sorry?"

The man smiled, his face becoming even more radiant as his eyes swept over Philip's body, seeming to devour every inch of him. Philip felt his cheeks redden at the naked appreciation he saw reflected in those beautiful eyes, and was even more embarrassed at the way his own body reacted.

"Have you rested well in my temple?"

Philip's eyes widened. Suddenly, he was feeling even more flustered.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was trespassing... I should have checked..."

The man held up a hand to halt Philip's stammered apology.

"It is I who should apologize, for not being here to greet you when first you arrived. But it is of little consequence now, for I am here."

Philip licked suddenly dry lips, his discomfort rising with each passing moment. There was something strange about this man, something compelling... something that stirred his own blood.

He gave a smile that was aimed more at himself than at this stranger as he considered his personal penchant for the female form. When he left America, with no intention of ever returning, he had turned his vast porn collection over to a friend, no longer satisfied with images on magnetic tape and glossy paper. He wanted the real thing, and had slept his way across Europe in a series of one night stands that gave him both the excitement he craved and a free bed for the night. Oh, he was not unaware of a man's beauty. He had been told, once, that he was beautiful, before the ravages of the disease revealed itself in the gauntness of his pallid skin and the dulling of once bright eyes. Despite this, he had received many offers from men and women alike as he traveled across from Portugal through Spain, Italy, France and eventually into Greece. Although some of those men could have been described as handsome, he had never held the slightest attraction for them, until today.

The man drew closer and Philip found himself slightly in awe of the overpowering physical beauty, watching as muscles rippled under smooth, golden flesh. The light Grecian-style clothing did little to hide the man's obvious desire for him and he closed his eyes as a perfectly sculptured hand reached out to caress his cheek.

"Why so afraid?"

Philip swallowed hard and opened his eyes to find the beautiful face barely inches from him, the softly whispered words caressing him, warm breath mingling with his own.

"I'm dying."

Philip blinked in surprise. In the flashing lights of a discotheque, or in the dimness of a bar, none of his conquests had noticed his sickness, being overcome instead by his boyish charm, and the vulnerability the disease made apparent; a vulnerability that reached out to the mothering instinct in each of them. Never had he offered up the state of his health, preferring to leave their bed before the sun rose and shattered both their illusions.

Why he should give this man the truth now was a mystery, but perhaps it was merely a defense mechanism, a means of driving the lust-filled stranger away.

The man smiled at him, his features holding a sense of sympathy and yet he seemed unperturbed by Philip's rash statement. He confirmed his reaction with two simple words.

"I know."

Cool lips replaced the hand that was softly caressing his cheek and he felt himself tremble in indecision.

"Lie with me."

"I-I can't.. I'm not that... I've never..."

"Experience it all. You cannot say you have lived until you have feasted on all of life's pleasures."

Confident hands began to pluck at his clothing, slowly teasing open each button as those lips nuzzled against his heated skin, trailing down his neck in a series of licks and bites. Philip moaned deeply as the light shirt was pushed from his shoulders, the flat of a palm skimming across the planes of his hairless chest, rubbing across one nipple until it teased it into a hardened peak, sending flickers of liquid fire through his body. The busy mouth paused to suck hard at the base of his throat. Once released from the shirt, Philip's own hands moved up of their own volition, his fingers running through the thick, silky strands of golden hair before gripping tighter, holding that head in place.

His chest was heaving as the man pulled away, easing out of his embrace with little effort.

Philip found himself being lowered back onto the altar stone, the man following him down with strong, graceful movements, until Philip lay beneath the powerful figure. He began to tremble in fear once more as a hardness, equal to his own, pressed insistently against his belly, trapped between their close-pressed bodies.

"I will try not to hurt you."

The man rose above him, straddling his waist, his hands reaching out once more to glide along in parallel along his ribcage and across the stiffened brown nubs, sending a bolt of passion flashing through his nerve endings. Those hands retraced their journey until they found the waistband of his jeans and, with deft movements, the button was released and the zip lowered. The man smiled, bending over with the suppleness of a gymnast, his hot mouth sucking on Philip's hardened flesh through the light cotton of his briefs.

"Oh god..."

Philip barely registered the firm pressure of hands that urged him to raise his hips, the worn denim of his jeans sliding slowly down his thighs to his knees, trapping his legs together. All the while, that talented mouth continued to suck and blow on his heated flesh through the light material. He drew in a sharp breath when fingers teased beneath the waistband of his briefs, easing the saliva and precome dampened cotton aside, freeing his straining erection from its white prison. He cried out as he was taken inside the hot mouth, his head rolling from side to side as impossible sensations flowed through him, igniting every living cell of his damaged body.

Strong throat muscles clenched around the length of him before he was released, the pliant tongue twisting and coiling around the head, teasing into the slit to lap at the bitter fluid seeping from the tip, rubbing across the glans with a slight roughness that only added to the wonderful feelings that were sending him higher and higher. When he felt he could climb no further, when he was certain he had reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, the incredible sensations took him onwards and upwards. He screamed when the moment of annihilation finally washed over him, hurling him into the void where he hovered between life and death for an eternity before crashing back to earth like a fallen angel cast from heaven.

A thousand images flashed through him, places and faces, reality mingled with fantasy as his earlier nightmare tore at his free-falling spirit. He saw himself as healer and abuser, caught within the grasp of the serpent with its unhealthy method of collecting the positive energy it drew upon for its own existence. He saw his own serpent-controlled body filled with a tainted desire, coercing sexual favors with half-truths and twisted lies. He heard his honeyed voice making promises of health that would hold for only as long as the serpent found pleasure with that individual's body.

He cried out in horror as he saw his own death, saw his body thrown against the base of temple column, his head impacting with the sharp edge... his blood smearing across the pale stone. The serpent fled with his dying breath, afraid of becoming trapped inside the shell of the body it had used for its own ends.

A sharp pain dragged Philip back from the edge of the abyss of madness, his innards exploding in white hot agony as he was penetrated by hardened flesh. He became aware of his legs raised high, supported on the man's shoulders, and he felt the bruising grip of hands upon his hips as his ass was filled with one deep thrust. Tears tracked down his face, his fingers clawing at the hard stone beneath him as the man pulled out only to thrust in deeper still. His eyes widened, mouth gaping in shock as agony transformed into ecstasy, the hardened organ rubbing against some place deep inside, sending a renewed pulse of desire cascading through him.

Fingers wrapped themselves around his slowly growing erection, pumping in time to the thrusts in his ass and, gradually, he found himself arching into the rhythm, his body pushing back to drive the rigid flesh deeper. His lover stiffened, head thrown back in ecstasy, a long hard groan falling from his passion swollen lips as he emptied his seed into Philip's, now acquiescent, body.

Philip sighed as hot fluid bathed his innards even as his own seed spurted across his belly and chest, coating the hand that still held him in a passionate grip. He made no sound of protest as the heavy body collapsed upon him, barely able to comprehend the sensations still rippling along his nerve endings as he basked in the afterglow, his body feeling more alive now than had in months.

Eventually the weight shifted, the man - his lover - easing up onto forearms, those lips descending to take his own for the first time, with a gentleness that belied the man's physical strength. That flexible tongue parted his lips, coiling against his own, tasting and exploring the hot cavern of his mouth with a sense of homecoming. When their lips finally parted, Philip smiled drowsily, and found an answering grin above him. His lover bestowed one final kiss upon him and then rolled to the side, gathering his depleted body into his arms, bringing Philip's head across until it was pillowed on the broad expanse of chest.

Philip slept.

-ooOOoo-

The sound of distant voices called him back from a deep, dreamless sleep. Philip smiled hazily and looked across, intending to awaken his new lover but there was no-one there and, looking around, he could see no sign of anyone else having ever been present.

Was it just another dream?

If it was a dream then he hoped he would have many more like that. He looked down at his strangely pain-free body, his eyes widening when he realised he was naked, his belly smeared with dried semen. Philip sat up and stretched, feeling a renewed vigor seeping into his very bones, but he hissed suddenly at the ache that made itself known, a burning sensation in his ass. His fingers dipped lower to investigate, and came back smeared lightly in blood and semen.

Not a dream then... so where did his lover go?

The voices that had awoken him were drawing closer, pushing any further thought aside as he quickly cleaned and dressed himself. He was amazed that he had not suffered sunburn while he lay sleeping for the sun was now high in the sky, close to midday. He had barely finished dressing when the first person came around from behind the columns, followed soon after by another. Tourists, like himself, but these ones were laden down with cameras. A third person appeared who was, obviously, a guide and Philip felt compelled to approach him.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me where the man who owns this land lives?"

The guide looked at him askance, bemusement written over his face.

"No one owns this land... it belongs to the all of the people of Delos."

"Oh... But there was a man here earlier, said this temple was his. He was a tall man. Blond, blue eyes, very good looking."

The guide gave a sudden, knowing smile as he gazed upon the beautiful green-eyed, dark-haired American.

"May I?"

Philip stood still as the guide reached forward and moved aside the collar of his shirt, revealing the place where his strangely absent lover had sucked deeply to leave his mark upon the vulnerable flesh. The guide smiled.

"You have been blessed."

"Blessed?"

The guide turned and walked away, leaving Philip staring in puzzlement at the man's receding back. Philip shook his head and picked up his backpack, leaving the temple to the newly-arrived tourists.

Having spent the whole day searching in vain, Philip returned to the temple. He bedded down for the night as before, but when morning came he was still alone. By noon that day he decided to move on.

As he retraced his footsteps of a few days earlier back down to the small harbor, he realised that, for the first time in ages, he did not feel the weariness or pain that had enveloped him for months.

He barely had time to grab a light meal before the small ferry arrived and could only look back with fond memories as the boat sailed away.

-ooOOoo-

A few hours later he was settling himself into a sparsely furnished but clean and comfortable room above the local tavern. He stripped off his dirty clothes and stared hard at his own body, convinced that there was something different about himself. Philip strode off to the small communal bathroom. After climbing from the welcoming shower, he took a good look at himself in the full length mirror. His skin, barely visible in the steamed up mirror, glistened with drops of warm water. Philip wiped some of the steam away and stared at his own reflection in confusion. Dew drops were clinging to his long, dark lashes but it was his own eyes that captivated him. The dullness from sickness and pain had gone. His eyes were bright, the deep green with a golden corona around the dark pupil shining with renewed vitality. His skin, so pallid these passed months, had taken on a healthy glow. Even his hair felt alive. And the pain that had become his constant companion was strangely absent.

He peered in closer, examining the mark on his throat, remembering how the guide had reacted on seeing it. He had assumed this was just a hickey, the guide merely expressing his appreciation for such an obvious sign of recently experienced passion. Now, he realised the mark was not a bruise that would fade away in a few days, it looked as permanent as a tattoo; a tattoo shaped like a sunburst.

-ooOOoo-

The doctor in Athens had been confused when he asked for x-rays to see how far advanced his cancer had become, but had agreed nonetheless. Now, Philip could understand why. He looked at the image in disbelief. He had already sent them back once, positive they had made a mistake and brought up the wrong set, but this time he knew there was no error.

The cancer had gone.

His first thought was to take the next plane back to America, to continue on with his life where he had left off all those months ago, but as he brought out his credit card, intending on handing it over to the pretty girl at the airline counter, he paused. What did he have to go back for? All that had changed was his health. He still had a world to see, things to do, dreams to make real.

Philip gave the girl an apologetic smile and stood back, then he turned and walked away.

Whether that amazing lover had been a mere stranger taking advantage of him in the hazy early morning light, or whether he had been Apollo himself, descended from Olympus to take pleasure in a mortal who had reminded him of a long lost love, it didn't matter. The encounter had opened Philip's heart, body and mind to a wonderful new world of pleasure.

He smiled as he wandered back through the streets of Athens. For some inexplicable reason he had been given a second chance at life. And this time he intended to live his life to the full.

THE END


End file.
